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Tycho’s jaw shot open. “But that’s preposterous.”

“You and I know it’s preposterous, but there are countless people out there who would believe it. You’ve been to the Galactic Museum. You’ve seen how the exhibits about the Emperor twist facts into lies. It’s no surprise that such twisting can take place. The fact is, though, that people believed the Emperor died at Endor destroying a Rebel Death Star. It will be very easy for those same people to believe the worst of you.”

Nawara hooked a taloned hand over Tycho’s binders. “You don’t remember your time at Lusankya, but she will make your amnesia sound like lying. And she’s good, very good. She’ll have you saying things you don’t want to say. Damage will be done and we won’t be able to recover from it.”

Tycho slumped back in his chair, dragging his hands into his lap. “We’ve really got nothing to prove my innocence, do we?”

“We have testimony about all you have done that is positive and good. Whistler and Emtrey came up with an analysis of the Krytos virus infection pattern and I can get experts up to show how your actions actually made it much milder than it could have been. And we’re still looking for Lai Nootka.”

“So you’re telling me that we need a miracle?”

Nawara nodded. “I’d take one if you had one to offer, but then again, I wouldn’t worry too much. Winning this trial is merely impossible, and we’re Rogues. We’ll get it done.”

Tycho sighed. “Or die trying.”

27

“Ah, Commander Antilles, welcome.” Admiral Ackbar stood as the man entered his office. “I apologize for the short notice, but time rolls away as the tide.”

“I came as quickly as I could, Admiral.” Wedge gave the Mon Calamari a friendly smile. “It must be important.”

“It is. You’re the first person outside the Provisional Council to hear this.” The Mon Calamari opened his mouth in the closest approximation of a human smile he could muster, hoping to put his visitor at ease. “The Xucphra faction on Thyferra has agreed to send us a substantial shipment of bacta. Your squadron—all of whom were called back to duty and are currently under a communications quarantine—will be sent out to meet the freighter convoy and bring it back here to Coruscant.”

“I see.” Wedge’s face took on a suitably grim expression. “Aren’t we a bit small to be protecting a convoy of, what, thirty ships?”

“Twenty, actually. Most are small ships, like the Skate. We have a few larger ones going, but our hauling resources have never been abundant.” Ackbar’s chin fringes wriggled. “We are having to rely on stealth and secrecy to safeguard the shipment—and not by my choice. The whole matter of negotiations about all this bacta have become very delicate.”

Wedge raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“We never expected your visit to Ryloth would be kept secret, but the news of it traveled more quickly than we expected. Apparently the Thyferrans know we obtained ryll from Ryloth. Some of the Thyferrans wanted to cut us off from bacta completely, pointing to your trip as an attempt to circumvent them. Cooler heads prevailed, so we’re getting this shipment, but it is barely sufficient to keep people alive. If the basic combinations with ryll work, we might double the effective strength of what we have, but that’s still not going to be enough to effect a final cure of the Krytos virus.”

Ackbar sighed as weariness washed over him. “While Xucphra officials are willing to send us the bacta to keep us paying them credits, they are very wary of advertising the fact that they’re working with the New Republic. They only benefit from all this if they are able to sell bacta to all sides in the conflict. They want this convoy to appear to be a private enterprise—it was suggested that Mirax Terrik could take credit for it and profit from it. They will get the ships to our rendezvous point, then we take over. You’ll ostensibly be on a training mission and offer the escort as a courtesy.”

Wedge frowned. “Rogue Squadron is a high-profile outfit. We’re bound to be watched. Why use us?”

“You have a